


Battleborn

by thechaoscryptid



Series: Catharsis [37]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Worship, Bottom Sylvain, Dissociation, Emotional Sex, Felix and the Mortifying Ordeal of Talking Through Feelings, Inspired by Art, M/M, PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Relationship Development, Scars, minor character injury, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: Felix smooths his thumbs over Sylvain’s cheeks, sits back over his thighs before he clears his throat. “You know you matter to me,” he says haltingly, and Sylvain’s eyes crack open. “I meant it when I said I’d always be by your side. And I’m sorry I’m not...better at it.”“Fe—”“Don’t,” Felix says, stopping Sylvain’s hands on his hips before they can begin wandering. He takes a deep, quivering breath, then lets it all out in a rush. “I  just want you to know that even if I don’t always say or show it, you’re worth the world over to me.”Sylvain caresses Felix’s thigh, lip drawn between his teeth and gaze fixed just below Felix’s chin. “That sounds dangerously close to a confession, sweetheart.”“What if it is?”
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Catharsis [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1114704
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	Battleborn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for [Waistgomi](https://twitter.com/waistgomi), who won my 200 follower giveaway on Twitter recently! I was asked to write a fic for this _gorgeous_ and soft [Sylvix](https://twitter.com/waistgomi/status/1298882192425148418?s=20) piece, and it was an absolute pleasure to do ❤️❤️

Felix knows something’s more amiss than anticipated when Sylvain barely flinches at the vicious  _ thwack  _ of a training sword across his back. They’ve been out here for an eternity now, trading blows before dancing away on nimble feet as the day draws nearer to a close, and he's  _ still  _ no closer to figuring out why Sylvain's drifted away in recent weeks.

There's frustration in him, burning like a sun in his chest, but as Sylvain staggers to the side, Felix notices there's no light left in his eyes.

He can't decide whether that makes him angrier, or worried. Ever since the battle end of last month, there's been something off with him, but he won't say  _ what,  _ and Felix knows he has to have come dangerously close to hitting the freshly-healed wound on his shoulder. Sylvain should be in pain, at the very least.

In an instant, he decides he'll take anger over the infernal apathy. Goading him into action's worked before.

“What the hell's the matter with you recently?” he asks, hand fisted loosely around the sword grip as wood trails in the dirt.

To his consternation, Sylvain only shrugs.

Felix strides forward until they’re chest to chest, eyes flicking over Sylvain’s face to take in the way a single tear tracks through the dirt and sweat staining the proud cut of his cheekbones. Sylvain’s looking up and away, focused on something far over Felix’s shoulder. When Felix follows his gaze, there’s no pegasi or wyverns or even  _ birds  _ to be found, and he brings a hand up to brush gloved knuckles against Sylvain’s jaw.

“Sylvain.”

“Letting your guard down’s not your usual style,” Sylvain says, the pause between their words  _ just  _ too long for Felix’s liking. “Or are you conceding?”

“It’s not like you to sit there and take hits like that either, but here we are.” Felix unfurls his fingers and sighs.

Sylvain’s laugh is dry as Felix pats down his arm, then moves to press his palm into the spot he  _ knows  _ already has to be bruising. This relationship may still be in its infancy, but Felix knows pain, and he recognizes the hiss that leaves Sylvain when he digs his fingers into the injured flesh.

There’s a new scar there, trapped under all the layers of cloth—bright puckered skin that’s pinched tight around the point where some poor bastard’s arrow’d nearly pierced Sylvain straight through.

(Felix can say  _ poor bastard  _ for certain, because he can still hear the wet squelch of his sword cutting through the man’s gut for having the  _ audacity  _ to harm the one he loves.)

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, laying his hand flat in resignation. Today isn't the day for answers, it seems, and Sylvain's half-dead on his feet. “You’re tired.”

“I won’t get better by slacking off, isn’t that what you always say?” Sylvain hefts his lance and steps back, gaze unfocused as he swipes at his eyes. “It stung, that’s all. Surprised me.”

“Training is worthless if you aren’t focused. Haven’t I lectured you on that, too?”

Sylvain waves a hand. “You know how well I listen to training lectures.”

“As poorly as you used to listen when I said you’d do well to focus on people  _ inside  _ the monastery and not go gallivanting around town years ago,” Felix says.

“I got around to it eventually.” Sylvain’s lips twitch up in his smile-that-isn't that still stirs Felix's ire. He does his best to tamp it down as he grabs for the lance and Sylvain lets him, shoulders slumped and head bowing lower by the second.

“You’re not supposed to put yourself in harm’s way for me, you ass,” Felix says. “That includes pushing yourself too hard. We’re going.” He turns and racks the weapons, listening to Sylvain collect himself before the other man’s warmth is at his back.

“I’m fine, Felix,” he says.

"We’re—you're not—"

“I promise.” Sylvain winds an arm around Felix’s shoulders and pulls him close, rests his chin on Felix’s shoulder before nuzzling into his cheek. “You can’t hurt me~”

Felix stills. “I don’t  _ want  _ to. Can you just…” He huffs, turning around in Sylvain’s hold to narrow his eyes at him. “You know I’m not good at this, the whole…thing.”

“What, feelings?”

Unnecessary, but—

“What am I doing wrong?” Felix blurts. “Do you not want me anymore, now that we’ve…you know. We’re  _ together,  _ we're supposed to—”

“What?”

“You’re distant.”

“I'm fine."

"You're  _ lying!"  _ Felix takes a guarded step back and crosses his arms, face twisted in a scowl. "Fuck, Sylvain, we've barely  _ spoken  _ this week, and don't—" He holds up a finger "—tell me it's because we're busy. You made plenty of time for others during busy times before."

Sylvain wars with himself, frustration clashing with something a little more desperate before finally he says, “Thanks, Felix," and turns away.

"Wait, stop." When Felix reaches for Sylvain's shoulder, Sylvain recoils, and Felix softens his stance, fingers curled in the space between them.  _ "Is  _ it me?"

"Can you just let it go?"

“Take a guess.”

Sylvain looks over him for several impossibly long seconds before taking a half-step back and reaching to brush their fingers together, bridging the gap. “No,” he says. He tugs Felix forward and bows his head to rest their temples together. "All right, I'll bite. What's the problem?"

"Not here," Felix says, glancing over to where a few of the knights are sparring. There's a great many things he's willing to do tonight to fix whatever  _ this  _ is, but having that conversation in front of anyone else isn't one of them.

He tugs Sylvain from the training arena and through the grounds until he finds a suitably abandoned corner, then leans back against the brick and looks away from Sylvain. "Am I no longer interesting?"

Sylvain sighs, a world-weary sound that makes Felix's chest ache. "What makes you think that?"

Felix bites his tongue against a flurry of questions and muttered insults, settling instead on, "Is it because I couldn't save you from that arrow? I'd be angry, too, but at least I'd  _ say  _ it."

"About the—oh, Felix, no." Sylvain moves to face him, resting a hand on Felix's shoulder. "I'm not angry. Is that what this was?"

"I don't even know what  _ this  _ is," Felix mutters.

In lieu of a proper answer, Sylvain cups Felix's hand in his, fingers brushing back and forth across his skin as he bites his lip. Palm, wrist, fingertips—nowhere’s safe, and Felix twitches when Sylvain pays special attention to a thin white scar from long ago and far away.

“This was me, wasn’t it?” he asks, carefully ignoring Felix's irritated grunt. “From when we sparred up in Gautier. You were too young, too slow.”

Felix nods.

“Listen…” Sylvain glances up and there’s something unreadable in his expression as he lets out a long exhale. “I’m sorry.” When Felix motions  _ go on,  _ brow knit questioningly, Sylvain does. “For not being there how you want.  _ Need,”  _ he amends quickly when Felix opens his mouth, as though Felix is going to rip him a new one for a simple misstep.

(Felix isn’t even sure it  _ was  _ a misstep, which only serves to confuse him more.)

“I heard what you said to Ingrid,” Sylvain continues on, “about me. After I was up and moving. And why we—why  _ I— _ don’t—” He cuts himself off with an irritated hiss, fist balling in the cradle of Felix’s hand. “I  _ want  _ you, Felix, I don’t know if you understand exactly how much. But I've spent  _ so long  _ chasing after someone I truly lo—care for,” he corrects, "and I can't be the only one who shows it."

Felix stares, unblinking, as his confusion at the last few weeks coalesces into a simple conclusion.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” Sylvain echoes. He smiles sadly and looks away, then winces as his shoulder pulls. “It’s fine, I know you’re not—”

“Say I’m not experienced,” Felix threatens, voice low.

“I was going to say you’re not as affectionate as I’m used to,” Sylvain says. “And I haven’t been feeling great since this, besides.” He tips his head toward the injury, pulls his hands away from Felix’s and sighs as he shoves one through his hair. “I’ll get over it.”

“No,” Felix says. It comes out sharp, more a bark than statement, and from across the way, Byleth's eyes snap over. Felix regroups, stares down at the stones below. “It’s not your job to be better. It’s not a job at all, it’s—” He bites his tongue and takes a deep breath. “What can I do?”

"You could touch me once in a while. Initiate things,” Sylvain mutters, as though the admission’s painful, dragged out of some place it wasn’t supposed to be. “I miss that.”

“I do touch you.” To prove it, Felix grabs Sylvain’s hands.

“Not like  _ that,”  _ Sylvain clarifies.

For the second time in a minute, all Felix is left with is a strangled, “O—oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to—”

“Not  _ just  _ sex," Sylvain says, bringing Felix's palm up to cradle his cheek. "I like this sometimes, too. Or this." He steps forward and pulls Felix's free arm around his waist, and Felix nods into his chest.

“Oh,” he says again, cursing himself for the inability to say  _ literally  _ anything else. “Okay.”

“You feel like you’re about to bolt,” Sylvain whispers, and Felix shakes his head.

“It’s an adjustment,” he says.

“Sorry."

"No. This isn't a 'sorry' thing," Felix sighs. "If anyone's sorry, it should be me." He keeps his arm tucked around Sylvain as he walks them both forward, angling for the dorms.

"We could put it past us."

"No," Felix repeats, then,  _ "no."  _ He looks up to see shock playing across Sylvain's face, like the other man wasn't sure anything was going to actually come of this, and that makes him hurt more than the longing. "I want you to be happy. With me."

"Fe—"

"Please let me," Felix says, and if his voice is tinged with desperation, Sylvain has the grace not to mention it as he's dragged along.

“So,” Sylvain says when they've made it through the campus. He looks everywhere  _ but  _ Felix as he stands in the threshold of Felix’s room, and Felix isn’t having it.

He reaches across the space between them to grab Sylvain’s shirt and tug him forward, flush against each other. “Look at me,” he says. The command comes soft and low, with an undeniable current of steel running through it, and Sylvain’s eyes immediately snap to his. “Sit on the bed and I’ll get ready, okay?” he continues. “Candles?”

“Yes,” Sylvain says. He slides his hand up Felix’s chest to cup his jaw as he leans down for a kiss, not much more than a mere ghosting of his lips across Felix’s before he touches their temples together and does as directed.

Felix spares him the occasional glance as he lights the candles, retrieves the oil from his desk, and makes sure everything’s in order before kneeling in front of Sylvain’s spread legs. He rests his hands on Sylvain’s knees before sliding them up, up, up Sylvain’s seemingly endless torso so he can rest his thumbs against Sylvain’s heartbeat. “Come down here,” he murmurs. “Kiss me again.”

It’s a quiet thing, lacking Sylvain's usual passion, his intensity. Felix rubs small circles against Sylvain's jaw until his lips part, a quiet noise escaping him as Felix traces their outer shell with his tongue. Slowly, surely, Felix works more out; Sylvain’s brow knits when Felix stands and guides him onto his back, perched above him with one knee resting by his hips.

“That’s it,” he whispers.

“Mhm,” Sylvain hums, equally as soft as he noses up into the crook of Felix’s shoulder. There’s a sharp sting, then the wetness of Sylvain’s tongue before his fingers come up to tangle in Felix’s clothes. Then, breathed as he clutches at the hem of Felix’s shirt, “Please.”

And it’s not like Felix doesn’t understand this, the neediness. He understands it  _ too  _ well, he’d say, but seeing Sylvain below him like this is at once a rush and worrying. The other man’s already flushed, his brow knit and eyes squeezed shut like Felix is too bright to look at.

_ (You know you’re beautiful?  _ Sylvain always says when they lay together in the moments before Felix makes him get up and get a cloth.

Somehow, even tacky with sweat and come, Felix always finds it in himself to believe him.)

Felix smooths his thumbs over Sylvain’s cheeks, sits back over his thighs before he clears his throat. “You know you matter to me,” he says haltingly, and Sylvain’s eyes crack open. “I meant it when I said I’d always be by your side. And I’m sorry I’m not...better at it.”

“You don't have to force th—”

“Don’t. I'm not,” Felix says, stopping Sylvain’s hands on his hips before they can begin wandering. He takes a deep, quivering breath, then lets it all out in a rush. “I need you to know that even if I don’t always say or show it, you’re worth the world over to me.”

Sylvain caresses Felix’s thigh, lip drawn between his teeth and gaze fixed just below Felix’s chin. “That sounds dangerously close to a confession, sweetheart.”

“What if it is?” Felix sets his jaw and waits for Sylvain to fall away, limp, like he always used to with the girls he brought back to the dorm.

_ (It’s just for fun, Felix,  _ he’d always moan.  _ Why do they have to bring feelings into it?) _

Instead, Sylvain’s fingers only tighten as his breath hitches. “Then I love you, too.” He presses up on one elbow, free arm snaking around Felix’s waist to pull him down into another kiss.

Felix gives it his all, pours himself into every action because while he’s not quite strong enough to say it yet, he’ll be damned if he won’t _show_ it. He presses Sylvain back against the pillows, rucking up his shirt with heated hands before dropping his lips to Sylvain’s jaw, neck, collarbone. When Sylvain arches up against him with a quiet groan, he murmurs, “What do you need, Sylvain?”

“Just you,” Sylvain mumbles into his shoulder. “That's all I want."

Sylvain’s haunting in the candlelight, his skin wreathed in shadow and the flames glinting off his hair and heavy-lidded eyes that track Felix’s movements as he strips off his shirt. When Felix makes to divest Sylvain of his own, Sylvain tenses.

“Well, I can’t fuck you clothed,” Felix says. “Don't you want me to—”

“Leave it on,” Sylvain says. It comes out in almost a yelp, and there’s several seconds of strained silence before he softens and wraps his hand around his shoulder. “I haven’t gotten a good look at it yet.”

“What, you think I want you just because you’re pretty?” Felix says, words out before he can bite them back. “I want you because you’re—because you’re  _ you,  _ you hear me?” He takes Sylvain’s face in his hands and stares down. “I’ve sat by your side when you were sicker than a dog,” he continues, gentler. “I have seen you  _ long  _ past the end of your rope, so don’t you dare think a new scar or telling me what you want is going to make me love you any less. I’m not that sort of man.”

In Sylvain’s silence, Felix meets regret. He’s no stranger to offending Sylvain—he’s sure Sylvain would worry if he  _ didn’t  _ offend at least a few people a day—but this… No, he doesn’t like this silence, and he tilts his forehead to Sylvain’s.

“Syl—”

“It reminds me how I almost lost you," Sylvain interrupts. "I don't give two shits about the scar, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, Fe."

“I wasn’t the one who got skewered,” Felix says, giving Sylvain a half-hearted smile as an apology. “Shouldn’t it be me being upset?”

Sylvain shakes his head, threads his fingers through Felix’s hair, and pulls his head down to rest against his chest. Felix  _ feels  _ more than hears his next words as they rumble out of him. “I’d finally gotten what I wanted, no strings attached, and I thought I was only going to be able to enjoy it for a matter of weeks. Just my rotten luck, huh?”

“You always survive,” Felix says. "You promised, remember?"

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Sylvain says. He rubs his knuckles up and down the side of Felix’s spine, digging in at  _ just  _ the spot Felix can never quite reach for himself. “You can worry about it later.”

“I’m not worrying,” Felix grumbles.

“Hm.”

“Shh.” Felix smooths a hand up and down Sylvain's side, nuzzling into his chest for some time before pressing his lips to the curve of Sylvain's jaw. 

Sylvain sighs as the hand wanders lower, teases at the waist of his pants. "Please," he says. His arms tangle with Felix's as they both attempt to shove the garments off, and Felix gently guides him to rest because he can  _ do it himself, Sylvain, be good for me. _

"That's it," he says as Sylvain goes pliant. "Lay back and let me do it. You trust me."

Sylvain nods.

Felix looks at him.  _ Really  _ looks, searching for any sign of hesitation as he bids Sylvain roll over onto his stomach. The shirt twists around Sylvain's torso, stark white against skin that begs to be marked.

_ (And not the way it's always been,  _ Felix thinks,  _ marred by man and beast and people who don't deserve you.) _

He tucks his heels below him, slowly hardening as he pets Sylvain's naked flank. Sylvain presses up and back with a soft whine when Felix leans forward to retrieve the vial of oil near the pillow, and Felix kisses his nape, promises it's okay, he's got him. "Spread your legs for me," he says. Then, as an afterthought, because he  _ can and will  _ be affectionate as Sylvain wants, he hedges, "...darling?"

"Oh," Sylvain breathes. He buries his face in Felix's pillow and shivers. "You don't need to—"

"I'm  _ trying,"  _ Felix says, popping the cork and slicking his fingers. "Do you not like 'darling'?"

"I like it when it's you," Sylvain says, and  _ Goddess— _

"Why do you always get to be the better one at romantic things?" Felix grumbles. "Unfair."

"Have I ever played fair?" Sylvain asks, and Felix wipes away the makings of a smirk with his thumb, sucking in a breath through his teeth when Sylvain's lips wrap around it.

"Bastard," he sighs out.

"There's the Felix I know and love," Sylvain says, the shit.

Felix tugs his face forward and nips at his bottom lip in retaliation. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days.”

“That a threat or a promise?”

_ “You—” _

“Fuck me, sweetheart,” Sylvain says. He sits up and leans back against Felix’s chest, pulls Felix’s fingers toward his ass as he grinds back. “You can make good on punishing me later.”

“Mmn.” Felix noses Sylvain’s shirt aside to latch onto the curve of his shoulder, flicking his tongue over one of the older scars Sylvain earned himself in the early days of the war. He fixes his teeth just to one side of it and sucks, makes a mark he knows Sylvain will wear under his armor with pride.

Sylvain lets Felix push him back down to the bed, one hand splayed over his lower back while the other ghosts teasing touches across his hole, never enough to truly satisfy. He’s a vision: a flush spreading through his shoulders, fingers trembling as they twist and untwist the blanket, breath hitching impatiently as he attempts to roll his hips back.

“So eager,” Felix says as he sinks in. He rests his forehead between Sylvain’s shoulders, revels in the way Sylvain’s already beginning to break apart.

He’s hot and slick around Felix’s finger, all but sucking him in while Felix works him over. Felix wonders if the fondness in his chest is the same Sylvain feels bent over him. It warms him through and through, and when the question slips out unbidden, Sylvain chuckles breathlessly.

“Nothing compares to you fucked out under me,” he says. “I wish you  _ knew~” _

The word trails off into a whimper as Felix pushes back in with two fingers, angling until Sylvain’s hips jerk forward.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Again.”

And Felix  _ doesn’t.  _ He lays hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of Sylvain’s shoulders as he deftly avoids the spot Sylvain wants the most, letting Sylvain snip and snarl and protest until he’s simply begging, cock hanging thick against the bed

“Fe,” Sylvain whispers hoarsely.

"Feels good?" Felix says.

_ "So  _ good, sweetheart, please,  _ please~"  _ Sylvain brings both arms up around his head, burying himself like he's ashamed of the neediness, and Felix pauses.

"Don't do that," he says. "I want to hear you."

"Why?"

"Because I love all of you." Felix pushes in once again, littering Sylvain's clothed shoulders with kisses as Sylvain's chest heaves with an unbridled moan.  _ That's  _ it—Sylvain likes hearing that, Felix can work with that.

"This—" He slides his free hand across the curve of Sylvain's thigh, strength born of too many years’ violent necessity.

"This—" Sylvain's breath hitches when the hand slips around to the front, and he lets out a low groan as Felix gives him a few firm strokes. He's good at that, too, knows how Sylvain prefers it with a twist at the head; they've fucked around enough times now that he's not completely lacking in skill.

"This..." Felix lets go of Sylvain's cock to drag his knuckles through the soft hair on his stomach, splays his palm flat as he feels from abs to the valley of Sylvain's chest. There he rests, hand over Sylvain's heart as he presses his cheek to the same spot on his back. "I wish I was better," he admits. "Good enough to realize when I'm fucking up, and to make it okay again."

“You are right now,” Sylvain says softly.

Felix inhales, lets the breath shudder out against Sylvain’s spine as Sylvain rolls his shoulder. “Can I at least get a look at how bad the bruising is?”

“All right.”

Hooking a finger in the collar, Felix tugs at the fabric until Sylvain’s shoulder’s bared. It’s covered in a large purple bloom, just as Felix knew it would be. He lets the shirt go and traces along the edge, as soft as he would if Sylvain was actually split open again.

“See? I’ve had worse,” Sylvain says, looking back with a melancholy smile. “Told you you aren’t so bad.”

“Hush,” Felix tells him.

“The, um, scarring—” Sylvain swallows hard and swivels his head back around, plants his face on the pillow again. “Does it look okay?”

“Not so bad,” Felix echoes. He skims his lips over the bruise and down to the upper edges of the scar, flicking his tongue out to track along the knotted flesh. When Sylvain whines, he halts. “I love this, too,” he continues, pulling the shirt up to cover it once again. He smooths his thumb over it once more to memorize its shape and feel before reaching up to tousle Sylvain’s hair.

“Hey, what was that for?” Sylvain rolls onto his back later at Felix’s behest, a flicker of light  _ finally  _ bleeding back into his eyes.

“You can’t be gorgeous all over; that’s just not fair,” Felix says. “I’m keeping you humble.”

“Wow, Fe, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“I  _ said _ you were—”

“Come here.” Sylvain grabs Felix by the hips and pulls him forward, down into his arms, and rolls their hips together. His fingers work at Felix’s pants and before Felix can say he’ll do it himself, Sylvain’s got his cock in hand and all coherent thought flies out the window.

“‘M supposed to be taking care of you,” he rasps. “Put me  _ down.” _

“Don’t think I will,” Sylvain says, pouting when Felix pushes his hand away. The frown doesn’t stay for long, though, fading into an  _ oh  _ as Felix slicks himself and presses in.  _ “Yeah,  _ sweetheart, that’s it, come on—”

Felix doesn’t stop until they’re flush together, breathing the same air as he brushes a few strands of hair from Sylvain’s forehead. He opens his mouth, shuts it again. Words are inadequate when it comes to Sylvain, as they so often are, and he hopes the sloppy kiss he draws the other man into is proof enough of the well of emotion he stirs in him.

When he moves, Sylvain’s nails digging into his back are the most exquisite sort of pain.

They rock together slowly, Felix taking care not to shove Sylvain too hard into the bed. He keeps his face buried in the crook of Sylvain’s shoulder, alternates between marking him and whispering the sort of nonsense he’s always gone to great lengths to avoid, and Sylvain  _ melts  _ under him.

He cries Felix’s name when he comes—a tiny, choked sound that has Felix wanting to make sure he never hurts again—and as Felix follows him over the edge, something in him cracks at the sight of tears on Sylvain’s cheeks again.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, forcing the words past the icy dread seeping through his chest.

“No?”

Felix reaches out and brushes them away, the wetness clinging to his finger as he holds it up.

“I feel good, Felix,” Sylvain says. He shoves his face into Felix’s hand like one of the monastery cats, a flicker of sourness passing over his face as Felix pulls out. When Felix arches a brow in disbelief, he nods. “Hand to the Goddess, I swear. I’m all right, I just—” He screws his eyes shut and covers them with his hand, links his other with Felix’s. “No one’s ever felt  _ honest  _ with me in bed.”

“I’m honest with you everywhere,” Felix mumbles, glancing away. “And you  _ are  _ all those things.” He sits back on his heels and grabs for the corner of the blanket to cover himself, self-conscious as the blood begins to trickle back up to his brain. “Just don’t...expect it...all the time.”

Instead of answering, Sylvain guides Felix down onto his side so Sylvain can drape against him from behind. “It’s nice to feel wanted sometimes,” he says quietly. “But apparently that’s harder to admit than I thought.”

“There’s time to figure it out, I suppose,” Felix says. He leans back against Sylvain’s warmth, surrendering to the hug with a low sigh. “Please do tell me, though. I don’t want to lose you because of something I can fix.”

“I’ll work on it.” Sylvain’s lips linger on Felix’s nape before skirting over to his pulse, his lashes on Felix’s sensitive skin sending a tremor down his spine. “I liked hearing you say you love me~”

Felix groans as he buries his face in his hands. “I thought it was  _ obvious,”  _ he says, gearing up for further protest before he realizes Sylvain’s laughing. “What?”

“Back at the monastery and still learning, even after all this time,” Sylvain says. He holds Felix tighter for a split second before letting him go and wiping at his back with his shirt. “Let me up.”

“I’m not pinning you,” Felix snorts, but rolls onto his front anyway before Sylvain climbs over him to wet a cloth and wipe them both down. He gazes up at Sylvain while he works, a smile threatening to tug on his lips as Sylvain begins to hum softly. “Hey.”

Sylvain glances up.

“I love you.”

Sylvain ducks to hide the red rising in his cheeks, losing the battle against his own smile. “Practicing?”

“What of it?”

“Try it again,” Sylvain says, and when Felix does, the words dance off his tongue before Sylvain swallows them down. “Thank you,” Sylvain continues, lips gentle against Felix’s. “I’ll do my best not to forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I see and appreciate all your comments, and even if it takes a while, I do my best to get back to them ❤️ You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:
> 
> [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/thechaoscryptid)   
>  [Tumblr](https://chaos-cryptid-writes.tumblr.com)


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